


Scars

by all_my_dreams_and_ambitions



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Abuse, Fist Fights, M/M, Scars, Violence, andrew's take on neil's torture, implied rape, mentions self harm, vioence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 18:25:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_my_dreams_and_ambitions/pseuds/all_my_dreams_and_ambitions
Summary: An AU where the injuries of one soul mate appears on the skin of the other, but they aren't as severe. This is a oneshot focusing on Andrew's take on what happened to Neil in Baltimore after they played the Bearcats.When he’d been younger, Andrew had never thought himself worthy of a soul mate. His own mother hadn’t wanted him, let alone a random stranger. Then, he felt the sharp pain of a knife on his ribs. A few months later, the hot press of an iron left him blistered and red under his shirt. Years later, the shape of a bullet hole appeared in his shoulder and that’s when he realized he’d been wrong the whole time.





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first AFTG fic, based on a post by demi-jos10 on tumblr!

           When he’d been younger, Andrew had never thought himself worthy of a soul mate. His own mother hadn’t wanted him, let alone a random stranger. Then, he felt the sharp pain of a knife on his ribs. A few months later, the hot press of an iron left him blistered and red under his shirt. Years later, the shape of a bullet hole appeared in his shoulder and that’s when he realized he’d been wrong the whole time. 

           He did deserve this soulmate, one who was as scarred and ugly on the outside as he was on the inside. 

           When he’d taken the blade to his own skin for the first time, he’d decided that his soul mate deserved this pain. Sure, the poor bastard had endured enough physical pain to last them both a lifetime, but if Andrew had to put up with his injuries, then this guy could put up with his. Not only that, but the blood was the only way he could release his pent up feelings about Drake without causing collateral damage. 

           He hadn’t wanted Cass or Aaron, the brother he’d just recently learned he had, to get hurt because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. So, Andrew had settled for taking care of it the only way he knew how. 

           Then, they’d met Neil Josten, an exy addicted asshole camoflaged as a nobody from the middle of nowhere. Andrew couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was a puzzle and the only thing that made sense was the fact that Neil was a side effect from his medication. 

           The drugs had caused him to hallucinate once or twice before, but it had always been people he’d known before. He assumed Neil was different, but only because he had fairly generic features. 

           He hadn’t wanted to go to Luther’s. He thought Nicky was a fool for believing that his parents would change. The only change his parents had wanted to see was a change in their son’s sexuality, not their attitudes toward their only child. 

           Then, to make things worse Drake had been there. 

           Luther had promised him a bottle of whiskey. He told Andrew all he had to do was go upstairs, talk to Drake, and grab the whiskey off of his desk. 

           Andrew had found the study, the whiskey hadn’t been on the desk. On his way back downstairs, Drake had intercepted him in the hall, the glinting bottle of bourbon in his hand. For the first time in a long time, he’d been afraid as he’d seen the look in Drake’s eyes. 

          “Hey, A.J.” Drake had said.

          “I’m not talking to you,” he decided suddenly. “Move, before I kill you.”

          Drake had appeared unmoved by Andrew’s words. “It’s good to see you again. Is that your brother downstairs? And your cousin? I’m not going to lie, your friends aren’t bad looking either. I’m sure they’ll talk to me if you won’t.” 

           That was what had convinced Andrew to step into the spare bedroom with Drake.

           The pain of the glass bottle breaking over his head was intense enough that he knew his soul mate felt every shard of glass in his skull. Part of him wondered if they blacked out too. Then, a macabre part of him wondered if they had felt what Drake was doing to him, or if it was only physical marks that they felt. 

           Then, Neil and Aaron had down up and killed Drake. 

            Things were a blur after that. His head had been too heavy to hold up, but full of air at the same time. The only thing he really knew was that everyone but Drake was okay and the cops were coming. So, he’d stripped off his bands and handed them to Neil. 

          Neil had spent the night wanting to talk to Andrew and Andrew hadn’t been willing to talk. He was going off his meds. There was no point in speaking more with the hallucination when he’d be gone in a few weeks, anyway. 

          When he’d returned from rehab, Neil was still there. He hadn’t been a side effect of the drugs like he’d thought. That information burned Andrew from his throat to his core and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

          Then, he and Neil had made a deal. Andrew would get to look at Neil’s scars in return for Andrew to stop tripping up their teammates so they could make it to the finals. 

            The second Neil took his shirt off, Andrew knew he was his soul mate. 

            His eyes roamed over every scar marring his pale skin. 

           They stopped at the iron. He remembered the way it had burned his own flesh when he’d been just a boy. His fingers reached out and pressed to the raised edges of the ugly flesh where the holes of the iron had been. 

            His gaze slid to the bullet hole. He remembered the hot pain of that injury. His thumb pressed to it. “Someone shot you,” he said. 

           “I told you someone was after me.” 

            Andrew’s fingers curled into the iron mark harder. “This,” he said, “is not from a life on the run.” 

            When Neil told him his father gave it to him, Andrew was interested in knowing more about his shitty life, but he held in his questions. Getting answers from Neil required that he give up his own history and he was reluctant to do so. 

            So, he left.

* * *

 

           It was a few nights later when they were sitting on the roof when Neil brought it up. “You don’t just wear the bands to hide your knives.” 

           It was a question, so Andrew didn’t dignify it with an answer. If he had felt every burn, bullet wound, and the slide of Riko’s knife against Neil’s ribs, Neil had seen every cut Andrew had created on his own skin. Of course, Neil’s wounds from Andrew’s self-harm had healed long ago and they hadn’t scarred, just like Andrew had healed from Neil’s injuries without a mark. 

            “When I was younger,” Neil continued, “I always felt bad for my soulmate knowing that they felt every mark left on me. It wasn’t until a few years ago, that I felt the first  _ real _ marks from mine. Right here,” he rubbed his forearms. 

           Andrew’s heart stuttered in his chest. Neil knew they were soul mates. He’d known since Columbia when he’d taken off his arm bands. He flicked his cigarette over the side of the building and took a long drink from the bottle at his side. “Don’t,” he finally said. 

           He didn’t want to talk about it with Neil. He didn’t want to be asked to explain himself. 

           He left Neil sitting on the roof in the chilly wind. 

* * *

 

           They won their game against the Bearcats. 

           Andrew thought the exy-addict in Neil would be so ramped up about being closer to the finals that he’d never hear the end of it. He had fully prepared to completely tune out Neil and Kevin on the ride back. Yet, the only thing Neil said to him was, “thank you. You were amazing.” 

           Andrew thought he meant about the stupid stickball game. It was just that, a game. But Andrew had put effort into it because it was the only chance they were going to have to rip what Riko valued most right out of his pretentious fingers. 

            Then, the riot happened. 

            It was a mess of fists, elbows, angry shouts, and shattering glass. The entire team was scattered across the parking lot. He went searching for Kevin and Neil. He’d promised to protect him, but it was hard when he got elbowed right in the cheek.

            Andrew threw as many blows as he received, stumbling blindly through mass of bodies to find Kevin. He tripped over what he assumed to be a body, but when he saw the ugly tatters of a familiar duffel bag, his heart stopped. 

_ Neil. _

            He picked the bag up and shouldered it. Something was wrong. It was terribly, terribly wrong. 

            Eventually, the crowd thinned and the Foxes were able to stagger back to the bus. 

            Andrew found Kevin and studied him for injuries. He would survive. “Coach,” he said dropping Neil’s bag at Wymack’s feet. “Coach, Neil was taken.” 

            “ _ What _ ?” 

            “He’s gone. He was taken. That’s his bag. He’d never leave it behind.” 

            Wymack studied the bag at his feet and searched the crowd for his missing Fox. 

            “He’s gone and I’m going to find him.” Andrew shouldered past him, but was stopped when Wymack grabbed the back on his shirt. 

            “Stay fucking put!” Wymack demanded. “Nobody’s going anywhere. I’m going to talk to the cops and see if they’ve seen him and then we’re going to get Boyd and Walker to the hospital. Maybe the they have Neil. For now, everybody get on the bus and let Abby take care of you.” 

            Andrew glared at him. 

            “And so help me god, Minyard, I’ll shove Kevin’s contract down the garbage disposal if you so much as take another step away from the bus.” 

            Reluctantly, he grabbed Neil’s bag and climbed on. 

            He didn’t lose track of time. The only thing he could do was sit with his forehead pressed against the seat while time ticked by. He was almost hyper-aware of every second that Neil was missing. 

            Then, pain lanced up his arm. 

            One cut showed up, crimson against his skin, just below the edge of his left armband. 

            Andrew’s heart picked up speed.  _ Neil, Neil, Neil, Neil. _

            Another cut showed up. 

            Then another. 

            He did nothing but stare as Xs were sliced across the front and backs of his hands. 

            There was brief reprieve from the pain in his hands, but only because his face was  _ burning _ . He jerked and pressed a hand to his left cheek, right below his eye, leaving a crimson smudge behind from the shallow cuts he’d received from his soul mate’s injuries. 

            Kevin paled in the seat across from him as he stared at Andrew pressing his fingers to his face. His own hand pressed against his ‘2’ as if he could sense what Andrew was feeling, what  _ Neil _ was feeling. 

            Andrew was used to pain, even without Josten as his soul mate. He’d experienced plenty of it in his lifetime to know when pain was malicious. Whatever Neil was going through was simply  _ evil _ . 

            Kevin looked like he was seconds away from throwing up, his fingers pressing against his tattoo like he was expecting it to fall from his face. 

            It hit Andrew like a car on the interstate, where the pain in his face was. It was exactly where Riko had tattooed the ‘4’ on Neil’s cheek. It was being  _ burned _ from Neil’s skin. 

            His gaze fixed to Kevin as Matt, Wymack, and Renee came from the hospital. 

            Kevin had played little league exy with Neil as he a kid. Kevin knew about Neil’s past and judging form the guilty look on Kevin’s face he knew who had Neil. 

            Andrew was across the aisle before Kevin knew he was coming. His fingers latched around his throat, leaving blood against his skin. He was squeezing the life out him. “You better fucking tell me who has him, Day. Fucking tell me where they’re taking him!” The words were cold and hard as they escaped his clenched teeth. 

            Below him, Kevin scrabbled for his wrists, trying to pry his hands from around his neck. His face was starting to turn a concerning shade of red, his green eyes bulging from their sockets. 

            “Hey, hey!” Wymack interjected. His arms wrapped around Andrew and hauled him back. 

            Andrew fought him off and lunged for Kevin again. “He better talk, Coach, or he’s a dead man.” 

            Kevin’s hand was pressed to his throat, his eyes wide. “He’s a loose end!” 

            He cocked his head to the side. He wanted Kevin to  keep talking because his fucking face was on fire, which meant that Neil’s tattoo was literally being burned from his face. 

            Wymack shoved Andrew into his seat and told him to sit the fuck down because they weren’t going anywhere until they found out where Josten was. 

            By the time Kevin finished revealing the fat Neil had trimmed from his stories, the feds had called and informed them they had Neil in custody in Baltimore. So, the Foxes headed south. 

* * *

 

            When they arrived at the hotel the FBI was there. They climbed onto the bus and were bombarded with questions from the concerned Foxes. 

            “We have Nathaniel Wesninski in custody. He’s in the hospital recovering from his injuries. Unfortunately, you guys aren’t going to get to say goodbye to him before he disappears forever.” 

            “What?!” The team was outraged, angry that the feds would make such a decisions. 

            Andrew stood up and made his way to the front of the bus. He stared up at the federal agent. He didn’t bother hiding the reddened skin on his face from the burn or from the cuts on his opposing cheeks. 

            “Andrew!” Wymack’s hand was on his shoulder. 

            Andrew grit his teeth and jerked out of the man’s grip. He knew he didn’t like to be touched. He looked right at the agent, but he spoke to Wymack. “He’s wrong. Neil won’t disappear without seeing us first. I  _ will _ speak to him before he vanishes forever.” 

            “Who do you think you are, boy?” The agent sneered. “Sir, you best move your team back home before things get ugly.” 

            Andrew turned back around and looked spoke to Wymack again, but he didn’t tear his simmering glare away from the man. “I will kill anybody who tries to make us leave. Do I make myself clear?” 

            “Is that a threat?” 

            “Do I make myself clear?” 

            “Why shouldn’t I arrest you for threatening a federal agent?” 

            Wymack groaned and guided the agent off of the bus. Twenty minutes later he returned with a pair of handcuffs. “The only way he’s letting us stay is if I’m connected to you.” 

            That was how Andrew ended up spending the night cuffed to Palmetto State University’s exy coach. 

* * *

 

            Wymack and Andrew had to move the bus when he saw the agents pull in. He saw the hunched over form of his teammate as Neil headed inside and Andrew practically dragged Wymack back inside. 

             He was going to kill Neil for trying to handle his past on his own. He had told Neil not to run, but he hadn’t meant for him to sacrifice himself either. He had told him to stop  being a fucking martyr. 

             Andrew slammed into the door hard enough that he almost broke the latch he flung in open, his heart pounding in his chest, equal parts relief and fury. He ignored a man’s hands on his jacket and kept moving. 

            He reached out and grabbed Neil, who was doubled over in pain, and forced him to his knees. He sank to his knees in front of him.

            He kept his face neutral as he studied Neil’s face. His eyes picked up every bandage and bruise on his skin. He reached out and gripped his chin and lifted it to study his face.

            Neil’s blue eyes paused on the bruises on Andrew’s face, over the dark smudge on his cheekbone, beneath the already healing shallower version of his own cuts. They stilled completely when they saw the already scabbed burn on Andrew’s left cheek, but they were back to the bruise and the broken blood vessel in Andrew’s right eye before long. “They could have blinded you,” he said. “All that time fighting and you never learned out to duck?” 

            Andrew didn’t reply. He fixed Neil with a stony gaze. Instead, he reached up and tugged his hood down. His fingers traced the assortment of tape holding down the bandages over Neil’s cheek. He didn’t even know where to start inspecting his wounds. 

            Finally, he settled for ripping the gauze off of his right cheek first. 

            He’d seen the injuries on himself in the mirror. The lines of broken skin were identical, however seeing them on Neil was  _ so much worse _ . 

            He ripped the tape off of the burn next. He felt the twinge of it in his own cheek. It had been ugly in his own haggard reflection, but it was ten times uglier on Neil’s face. It was bright red and ugly, blistering. 

            The half of the soul mate that received the injuries directly always had it worse than the other half. That much was evident in just looking at Neil’s injuries compared to his own. 

            Andrew wanted to choke the life out of him. Why didn’t he say something? Why did he just take it? He told him not to fucking run. He promised him he would be there and Neil had decided to handle it himself. 

            Andrew tilted Neil’s face this way and that. He memorized the sharp edges of the cuts, the angry red borders of the burn, and the contrast between them and the skin beneath. Then, he lowered his fist and clenched it in Neil’s hoodie. He didn’t know if he wanted to kiss him or punch him. 

            “I’m sorry,” Neil said. 

            Those words rubbed Andrew the wrong way. He remembered them falling from the lips of one of his foster fathers. “ _ I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. You know what a tease you are.” _

            He fist was balled up and his elbow cocked back before he could stop himself. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to knock Neil’s idiotic fucking head off of his shoulders.

            He uncurled his fingers and dropped his arm. It hung limply from the cuff. He took a breath in and exhaled. “Say it again and I will kill you.” 

            A threat from the one of the Feds had Neil sending a snappy reply his way. 

            Andrew decided he was going to get up and oh-so-kindly shut that prick up for good, but Neil stopped him by getting so close he could feel his breath ghosting across his skin. His bandaged hands blocked his view from anyone else in the room. 

            Andrew debated on whether or not it would be worth it and then slid his gaze back to Neil. “So, the attitude problem wasn’t an act, at least.”

            He decided that he couldn’t trust Neil to be alone ever again. That idiot had a penchant for endangering himself and Andrew was pretty fucking sick of it.  _ Somebody _ was going to have to keep him from killing himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> Once agian, I'd like to thank demi-jos10 for making the text post that inspired this fic! It was fun to write!


End file.
